Parashat Vayishlach - By Rabbi Rick Brody

This week’s parashah begins with Jacob’s dispatch of messengers to Esau. The two have not seen one another in twenty years, since the episode in which Jacob tricked Isaac in order to receive the blessing intended for his brother. For this discussion, I will adopt the view that Jacob’s intentions are for sincere reconciliation with his brother; furthermore, I believe that Jacob reaches out to Esau for a holistic personal healing so that Jacob himself can achieve a new, more fulfilled sense of his place in the world. To understand Jacob’s progression towards this goal, we must return to some of his important experiences in last week’s parashah.

In Parashat Vayeitzei, during Jacob’s travails in Padan-aram, God spoke to him and commanded him to “return to the land of your fathers, and to your birthplace; and I will be with you” (Gen. 31:3). The midrash understands God to be communicating three ideas to Jacob: “Your fathers” means that your father waits for you; “your birthplace” means that your mother waits for you; and I Myself wait for you (B’reishit Rabbah 74:1). Jacob thus needs to return to his source — the land, the people, and the God that brought him into being. He becomes our first Biblical hero to embark on a complete nostos, the epic homecoming experience. This homecoming, as in all epic journeys, must take place on several levels. He knows, and God has confirmed for him, that he has been in both physical and spiritual exile. He is not complete — his relationship with God cannot flourish until he returns to his homeland. Yet clearly, his return has not only a personal dimension but also a social one — he needs to repair the fractured relationships with his family.
 
It is significant that God does not specify Jacob’s relationship with his brother as part of his task of return. In fact, Esau was neither named nor referred to in the entire parashah last week. It appears that Jacob’s own spiritual and emotional growth needs to be the catalyst for his deciding to reach out to Esau. The awareness of this duty does not come immediately.
 
Just as Jacob and his brother represented polar opposite personalities and dispositions, especially in relationship to each of their parents, Jacob himself now seems to manifest a bifurcated sense of direction. When he speaks about his obligation, he tells his wives he must return to his birthplace, which, according to the midrashic interpretation, refers to reuniting with the mother who always favored him. Yet, his sense of obligation to his father appears to lie rooted, perhaps unconsciously, in his behavior: The text states that after speaking with his wives, Jacob packed up his belongings “to come to Isaac his father, to the land of Canaan.” He has still not entered into a place of holistic being, where his mind and body function in organic cooperation (perhaps it is only his wrestling with the angel in this week’s parashah, which leaves him limping, that can set the right mind-body balance). Just as the blind Isaac resigned to confusion regarding the truth about his two sons — “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau” (Gen. 27:22) — Jacob’s speech and actions demonstrate a confused sense of self and of his filial obligations. He has become a microcosm of the very schism that was first evident between his brother and himself. It will have to become clear to Jacob that he needs to address the specific aspects of God’s instruction regarding both parents, a clarity that ultimately will lead him to see the unifying role his fraternal relationship will play in this drama of family dysfunction and personal psychological growth.

Parashat Vayeitzei ends with Jacob’s return to the Holy Land and the accompanying appearance of divine angels to escort him on his way. Having returned to the these angelic guardians of the land’s borders — beings whom Jacob last encountered twenty years earlier — our hero may now recall the fullness of the disrepair he had left behind. Perhaps the appearance of angels and Jacob’s mere presence inside the holy borders of God’s land effected a spiritual change in him whereby he was more able to confront the more frightening parts of his personal history. He now knows he must face all elements that connect back to his birth, especially everything that is, like him, a product of both mother and father. Confronting a sibling (and especially a twin), a common motif in mythological literature, allows the hero to see the shadow parts of himself and especially those that are in most need of repair. Such a confrontation provides a mirror; it offers another example — different from oneself but also equally valid — of what it means to be the product of two specific parents. For Jacob, the heart of familial reconciliation goes all the way back to his mother’s womb and to the other human being who grew with him there, struggled with him, and who was born minutes before him.

God’s sending of angels (malachei elohim) in the penultimate verse of last week’s parashah (Gen. 32:2) prompts Jacob to send his own messengers (malachim) in the very first verse of this week’s parashah (Gen. 32:4). He appears to have complete clarity about where to send these messengers — to Esau; even more specifically, the Torah offers the seemingly superfluous reminder that this named recipient of these messengers is Jacob’s brother: “And Jacob sent messengers before him to Esau his brother.” Surely, the reader remembers who Esau is. The Torah is telling us that, once again — or, perhaps even for the very first time — Jacob remembers or realizes who this other human being is: He is his brother, an equally human product of the mother and father that brought Jacob into the world. Esau is an extension of Jacob’s self (and vice versa), and the latter will not be able to achieve a unified sense of self until he reconciles with this neglected part of his life.

Jacob knows that reconciliation with his brother demands a direct encounter — communication via messengers is only a prelude. Jacob knows that before he can truly see himself — for what he is and who he wishes to be — he must truly see the other part of himself that is manifest in his brother. Again, such an encounter is similar to looking in a mirror. Jacob vividly suggests the mirror motif when explaining to his messengers the purpose of the advance gifts he is sending to his brother. He hopes that such gifts will appease or pacify Esau and that “afterwards, I will see his face; perhaps he will accept me.” The Hebrew here is much more telling, for it uses a repetition of the word “face;” literally, Jacob says, “perhaps he will lift up my face” (yisa panai) (Gen. 32:21). Jacob not only needs to see his brother — he wishes for something more. He does not simply hope for reciprocity — that Esau will in turn “see” Jacob’s face; rather, he wants Esau to “lift up his (Jacob’s) face.” While most translations render this phrase as meaning Jacob hopes to be accepted (at least one Jewish on-line translation offers, “Hopefully, he will forgive me” [http://bible.ort.org]), a more literal examination of Jacob’s words is instructive. Perhaps he believes that beholding his brother in truth will yield an elevation of Jacob’s own true self: He will be uplifted as a result of the encounter. He will see the eyes of his brother staring back at him, and they will penetrate to his soul in a way he has not yet experienced in his tumultuous life.

Jacob’s choice of words in imagining his reunion with Esau is also reminiscent of the Priestly Blessing, in which the priests ask that God should “lift the Divine countenance upon you, and grant you peace” (Num. 6:26). Whereas that blessing is one in which we hope for God lifting God’s own face (i.e. essential nature, true presence) towards us, Jacob is hoping for Esau (or at least the image of him that Jacob will behold) to lift Jacob’s face. Jacob recognizes that he is not ready yet for an interpersonal relationship — first, he needs to restore his own essence. Only then will he be open to receiving the blessings of peace that are available to him through relationship with his family, his land, and his God. The beautiful irony, however, is that Jacob understands that this renewal of self requires a deep encounter with another human being. After all, we are all brothers and sisters. Gazing into each other’s faces with acceptance and love is the pathway to inner and outer peace.